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4th July, 1963 {present time} idk I just felt like I needed to add that ^^^ because the past chapter might have been confusing. :(
When you dip her in the middle of the dance floor, it is the color of her dress. When she whispers in your ear, it is the color of her lips. When you make love, it is the trace you want her to leave all over your body. When she places her palm to your heart, it is the color that comes to the surface as her fingertips trail like a sentence that can never be finished. When you see her in your bedroom with another, it is the color of your breath. When you smash the vase in the hall, it is the color that threatens you to abandon the shattered pieces. When you scream at the top of your lungs, it is the color that pierced the atmosphere. When she hears you, it is the color of her pulse. When you look in her eyes for the last time, it is the fading color of your heart falling to your knees. It is not the color you see when she leaves.
Olivia Sheldon
"Olivia, it's the damn Fourth of July, just pick an outfit and lets go. We'll be late and miss the fireworks, then I'll be royally pissed. Now c'mon." Kieran yelled from down stairs as I put my feet in flip flops and grabbed a jacket.
"Where are y'all going?" Bob stomped and yelled as Kieran and I were almost out of the driveway.
"It's the Fourth Bob, can I not get some peace?" I shot back turning to glare at him.
"Where. Are. You. Going." Bob demanded as he marched closer to me taking my chin in his hand and squeezing.
"There's fireworks over the pier at sundown. You happy?" I regretted it before I could stop myself because soon the back of his ringed hand was swinging for my face and I fortified myself for the impact, but it never came. A rough shove to my shoulder caught my attention instead and I landed on my butt in the driveway.
Of course Bob didn't stop himself, he doesn't have the heart to ; it was Kieran as she caught his wrist in her hand before anything could happen to me. I saw her squeezing and digging her nails into his arm as his stance wavered.
Slowly, little dribbles of blood trailed down his arm, but Kieran didn't let go and Bob didn't move. The two of them in a face off, glaring at each other like dirt, never ceasing.
"Kieran." I called, but she seemed lost, too focused to even hear me.
"Kieran." I yelled this time as I smacked her on the shoulder. Still, she didn't move, didn't acknowledge my existence. The streams of blood became larger, thicker, more prominent now as more and more blood spilled out of his wrist. His breathing and bleeding getting heavier by the second the more she dug her nails into his arm.
